Star Trek: Mere Anarchy

By Margaret Wander Bonanno and Christopher L. Bennett

Mestiko: a world on the brink of interstellar travel -- and one that is closely and discreetly monitored by the Federation. But when a rogue pulsar sweeps through the star system, threatening to destroy all life on their planet, Starfleet must mount a desperate effort to protect the planet from annihilation.

Under the command of James T. Kirk, the Starship Enterprise is able to mitigate some of the damage -- but the world's surface is still devastated with appalling loss of life. Over the next three decades, the Enterprise and its crew revisit Mestiko -- whether to keep them from falling prey to the machinations of the Klingon Empire or to deliver a new method of replenishing the planet's ozone -- through trials and tribulations, hardship and strife, love and death.

Originally published as six eBooks, Mere Anarchy is the saga of one crew's career-long relationship to one world, and the ties that bound them inextricably together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
• Release date: Mar 17, 2009
• ISBN: 9781439158418

Margaret Wander Bonanno

Margaret Wander Bonanno (1950–2021) was the bestselling author of Star Trek: Burning Dreams; Star Trek: The Lost Era: Catalyst of Sorrows; Star Trek: Dwellers in the Crucible; and Star Trek: Strangers from the Sky, as well as two science fiction trilogies, The Others and Preternatural.

Book preview

THINGS FALL APART

Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

IN TRIBUTE

Paul Carr

February 1, 1934–February 17, 2006

SIX MONTHS AGO

CHAPTER 1

"First Consul, believe me when I tell you that every living thing on this planet is going to die."

Mino orDresha felt frustration mounting even as she delivered the blunt, harsh statement. Despite that, she still was satisfied at finally getting the reaction she sought from Flen etHamwora, watching as his pale, withered features tightened for the first time into a mask of genuine concern.

You are absolutely certain, my friend? the first consul asked, his faint and raspy voice one of the more overt symptoms of neplatrenu, the degenerative disease with which he had been diagnosed during the previous season. Acting on the directions of his advisors, Flen had chosen to keep his affliction concealed from the public he had been elected to serve, a course of action that only would have become harder as time passed and his condition worsened.

Not that any of that matters now, Mino mused with only a slight degree of bitterness as she regarded Flen, the first consul’s aged, diminutive body seeming even paler than normal and all but swallowed by his high-back chair as he sat behind the simple, uncluttered desk that was his spacious office’s prominent piece of furniture. While neplatrenu was not fatal in all cases, it was a virtual certainty that Flen would not survive long enough to see the disease run its course.

I have checked my findings three times, First Consul, Mino replied. There is no error. I remained silent while I verified the data, as you directed, but now that it is confirmed we must take action.

I do not understand, Flen said after a moment, turning in his seat in order to take in the breathtaking view of Yabapmat, the sprawling city that had served as the capital of the Gelta nation-state for thirty-eight generations. How can something so far away present such an enormous threat?

Mino sighed. Though she had attempted to describe the scope of what the planet faced, she knew that Flen’s impatience and inability to grasp the finer aspects of the sciences would only serve to prolong this discussion. Yes, it is true that the object we detected is a great distance away, and in fact will never actually collide with or pass very close to Mestiko. That is not the issue here, First Consul.

Deep-space telescopes had detected the object three lunar cycles ago, and it had taken nearly every waking moment since then to corroborate what Mino had feared upon her initial analysis of the telescopes’ collected data telemetry: The rogue phenomenon—essentially a compact star moving through space—was emitting lethal levels of radiation. While the object’s path would not bring it into proximity with Mestiko, that did not matter, as the radiation it emitted would wash over the surface of the planet, destroying its atmosphere and inflicting a death sentence upon all life harbored by it.

Those most fortunate would perish quickly as the event occurred, rather than survive a brief aftermath characterized by immense, unremitting suffering from which there would be no escape.

Flen swiveled his seat so that he could see Mino again, his expression still retaining a large measure of doubt. You will have to forgive me, my friend, but this prediction of yours is a bit much to take in all at once. It does at first sound quite outlandish, would you not agree?

Once more Mino felt frustration as well as the first hint of anger as she listened to Flen’s continued denial. First Consul, I have been your chief science advisor since you took office. You know that I am not disposed to alarmist theories or reckless, uncorroborated declarations. I stand before you today and tell you without any doubt or reservation that our world is doomed, and that we must act if we are to have any hope of preserving anything of our people or our culture. Indeed, Mino’s entire career had been devoted to the sciences and the pursuit of knowledge, to say nothing of the careful weighing and investigation of each new piece of information. Working alongside some of the greatest minds in history, she labored to understand not only the origins of the Payav but also their place among the other worlds and peoples that must inhabit the universe.

And it was that part of my work which was just beginning to show such promise.

Flen placed his frail, withered hands atop the polished surface of his desk. You misunderstand me, my dear friend. It is not that I doubt you, for you have served not only the people of Gelta but me personally with unflagging loyalty and integrity. He paused to release a small cough, as though the act of speaking at such length was becoming a strain. The problem I face is my own, for I find myself unable to decide how best to proceed in the face of what you tell me is an inalterable fate for our civilization.

Not for the first time, Mino felt the impulse to simply shout that which she had been keeping contained within herself. It was a struggle that had grown ever more difficult with the dawn of each new day that itself was but one of a dwindling number left to her people. The answer to Flen’s question and perhaps even the dire fate that apparently had been levied on Mestiko might well be within her grasp. She had only to speak the words.

I cannot, she reminded herself yet again.

Instead, Mino said to the first consul, Based on the technology available and the time remaining to us, we have nothing that might be employed to destroy the object, alter its path, or protect against its effects. However, there is something else we can consider.

She paused, stepping around Flen’s desk so that she might study the expansive Yabapmat cityscape, which she had called home for nearly her entire adult life. For a brief moment, she imagined it scorched by fire, enveloped in dust and smoke, drenched in acidic rain, with millions of its inhabitants lying dead in the streets or huddled inside their homes, fearfully waiting for a merciful end.

Enough!

Forcing away the gruesome imagery, she returned her attention to Flen. We have developed the ability to propel a spacecraft faster than light. We can increase its scope to accommodate one or more larger craft, capable of supporting a representative sample of our people. They would be a group who might carry forth our heritage, perhaps to begin anew on another world somewhere far from here.

Flen’s eyes grew wide as he listened to Mino’s proposition. That is quite poetic, my friend, but is it practical? How are we to select such a sample of survivors to carry on our name and culture? How do we ensure that an equal representation of all the peoples of our planet is created? Most important, how do we go about such a venture without inciting a global panic?

I do not know, Mino said. That is not my area of expertise. I can only provide you with facts and my opinions on how best to proceed. The rest is up to you.

Remaining silent for a moment, the first consul rose from his chair, using an ornately carved wooden cane to support his aged body as he moved closer to the window. He placed his hand on the thick, ovoid glass of the portal, and Mino saw him close his eyes as though attempting to commune with the city and landscape beyond. After several moments, he turned back to Mino.

The answer, my friend, is that we cannot.

Mino did not respond at first, unsure that she had heard Flen correctly. Shaking her head, she said, I do not understand.

We cannot proceed as you have recommended, the first consul replied, not without causing worldwide calamity.

Frowning, Mino asked, You are suggesting we remain silent, even now? She held up a hand. No, it is more than that. You actually believe we should take active steps to ensure the public remains uninformed about this.

Flen nodded. I do not see that we have a choice. Waving toward the window, he indicated the city. Once the people learn of what is to come, our entire civilization will likely crumble and descend into chaos and terror. People will turn on one another, perhaps even sacrificing their fellow Payav in the hopes of securing their own safety, which of course will be a futile effort. We essentially will see to our own fate before it can be visited upon us.

How do you propose to keep such an enormous secret? Mino asked.

Making his way back to his desk, Flen lowered himself into his chair before replying, "There are only two other nations that currently possess the technology to detect the object’s approach as we have. It would be best to alert those leaders, so that we might coordinate how best to proceed. I imagine they will feel similarly with regards to informing their respective peoples. After that, we shall also need to alert the other members of the Zamestaad."

Mino nodded in agreement. Given the information and options currently at his disposal, there was of course no faulting Flen for what he was contemplating. Notifying the global security council—created nearly three generations ago in the aftermath of the last great worldwide conflict and which to this day served as a body whose sole mission was to prevent future wars—was a prudent course of action. Once more, Mino felt herself longing to provide her friend and leader with another option, one he likely would not consider even in the most desperate of times.

No! The command echoed in her mind, seeming as though she had shouted it aloud to herself. I gave my word that I would not divulge what I know.

Drawing a deep, calming breath, she instead asked, First Consul, what will you do when the people learn not only what is happening but also that their leaders chose to keep that information secret?

Flen offered a small, wizened sigh. We will address that issue when it presents itself, my friend. Releasing a small, tired smile, he added, For now, and as odd as it might seem, I must tend to the normal business of the Gelta people. I trust I can depend on you to do as you have already done, to keep this information to yourself, in the interests of preserving the peace so long as we are able?

You have my word, First Consul, Mino replied. I and those I have already entrusted with this information will obey your directive.

Knowing that she likely would be spending an increasing amount of time in these chambers in the days to come, Mino took her leave of the first consul. Her body seemed to move toward her offices of its own volition, leaving her mind free to reflect on her world and the inability of anyone currently living upon it to do anything about the crisis it confronted. She wanted to believe that it was how the people of Mestiko faced what was to come that would define them as a people for all time and in the eyes of those who one day would learn of what was to happen here.

It was also something she feared, never more than as she entered her office and beheld the lone figure standing there, waiting for her.

Thank you for coming, she said, turning to close her heavy, soundproofed door and ensuring its lock was engaged, thereby concealing from anyone who might happen by the presence in her office of the being from another world.

CHAPTER 2

"I thought you might want to talk," said Dr. Nathan Apohatsu as he watched Mino secure the door. Though he had met with the Payav scientist on several occasions in recent months, this was the first time she had summoned him. In keeping with the protocols he had established at their first meeting, all contact was to be initiated by him or a member of his team, which at Starfleet direction had been in place on Mestiko and observing the people of this planet for nearly a year. The controls were enacted as much for the protection of Apohatsu and his team as the local population, who of course had no inkling that visitors from space walked among them.

I know I should not contact you, Mino said as she moved toward her desk, which appeared on the verge of overflowing with uneven stacks of papers, folders, and various other assorted office-related detritus, but given the circumstances I thought this warranted the deviation from procedure.

Watching her settle herself into her old yet still comfortable-looking chair, Apohatsu could not help but notice that she appeared to have aged considerably since he had seen her, less than a month previously. He saw the new lines around her eyes and mouth, and that her skin seemed even more ashen than the already pale pigmentation that was normal for her race.

Fate truly is a cruel bastard, Apohatsu considered, and not for the first time. The Payav had been of interest to the Federation from the moment they had learned of Mestiko’s progression to faster-than-light technology, thanks to a passing Andorian passenger transport’s sheer chance detection of the unrecognized—and decidedly primitive—warp signature while traveling in proximity to the planet’s star system. As it was the nation-state of Gelta that had developed the successful prototype warp ship, Federation officials decided it was their culture that merited closer observation, bringing about Apohatsu’s assignment—along with two other cultural observation specialists—to study the society as well as the dozens of other independent states that formed the planet’s sociopolitical landscape. In Apohatsu’s opinion, the Payav showed great potential to one day be a valuable member of the Federation. As such, he had been transmitting promising status reports for months, and had been prepared to recommend that formal first contact with Mestiko be initiated.

Then, the pulsar had been detected.

As part of their ongoing cultural observation of the Payav—itself an exercise in preparation for formal first contact proceedings to be initiated by the Federation—Apohatsu and his team had learned of the approaching pulsar as part of their continuous monitoring of all planetary communications. Studying the data collected by the Gelta space agency’s telescopes, the Starfleet team had come to the same staggering initial conclusions about the rogue space body and its lethal effects as those reached by Payav scientists. Even as Mino and the Gelta government’s science ministry worked to corroborate their findings, Apohatsu himself had been transmitting information back to Starfleet Command in the hopes of getting a more refined analysis of the telemetry. Once that verification had come, it had been with a heavy heart that he met with Mino to confirm her worst fears.

He watched as Mino reached up to caress her smooth, bare scalp, the six digits of her right hand brushing over the small, intricate pattern rendered in dark maroon ink along the top of her skull. Not for the first time, he found his eyes drawn to her neck, thin and longer than that of most other humanoid species with which Apohatsu was familiar but which was normal for the Payav. It always had struck him as one of Mino’s more alluring physical characteristics.

I find myself in the unfamiliar position of not knowing what to do next, my friend, she said, gesturing Apohatsu to the only other chair in her office, which featured a sloped backrest but was still not altogether different from an overstuffed recliner with which he might furnish his study in his Okinawan home on Earth.

So, she said after recounting her meeting with First Consul Flen, finishing with Flen’s decision to withhold knowledge of the pulsar from the public, those who do or will know about the Pulse will say nothing. Every discussion will be uttered in hushed whispers; every report from this time forward will be couched in code and cipher. No one will know anything until it is too late, and after that, nothing will matter.

Flen’s reaction isn’t unexpected, Apohatsu replied. In fact, there are plenty of arguments that keeping the Pulse secret is for the best.

He paused, blinking at his own use of the colloquial—if largely inaccurate—term by which Mino had taken to calling the approaching pulsar and its anticipated effects. In the months since he had begun secretly meeting with Mino, he had picked up a good bit of the language used by the majority of Gelta citizens, but he still relied upon the universal translator he wore on his belt to help him. Because of that, he occasionally caught himself employing various idioms and other shorthand used by Mino in their periodic conversations.

Better to die ignorant and happy rather than informed and terrified? Mino said, the words sharp as she spoke them. She shook her head. Given a choice, I do not know if that is the option I would want. Looking across her desk at Apohatsu, she then smiled. Of course, if I had chosen the career my parents wished for me and become a musician, I would be much happier this evening, yes?

Apohatsu felt a new pang of sorrow. To see the reality of the current situation weighing so heavily on Mino was all but unbearable. Not only did she carry the burden of knowing what would soon befall all of her people, there were precious few others with whom she could share that knowledge and perhaps seek comfort, and now that isolation had been cemented by consular decree.

Nathan, Mino said after a moment, her smile fading even as the universal translator produced the slight mispronunciation of his name that was the closest the Payav woman could manage, we have spoken before of your people and the laws you have against interfering with civilizations that are not as advanced as yours.

Apohatsu nodded. Just one law, actually. Our Prime Directive. Generally speaking, it applies to civilizations that have not yet discovered faster-than-light travel. In Mestiko’s case, while the government of the Gelta nation had successfully broken the warp barrier, the technology remained untried in regular use and, more important, unshared with other governments and leaderships across the planet. It was a leading factor that had prevented him from advocating first contact earlier than he had. Only after prolonged observation, during which it had become apparent that Gelta’s ultimate goal was to use the capabilities of warp travel for the betterment of the entire world, had Apohatsu been led to his final recommendation.

I admire the spirit inherent in the law, Mino said, that you are unwilling to risk cultural contamination by introducing societies to technology and concepts for which they might not be prepared. She leaned forward in her chair, placing her hands atop one of the shorter piles of papers on her desk. Given your overtures to me and my select circle of peers, it would seem the directive no longer applies.

I don’t know if it’s that simple, Mino, Apohatsu replied. Using standard pre–first contact protocols, he and his team approached targeted members of Mestiko’s scientific community, employing a series of burst transmissions on low-band radio frequencies that when interpreted would translate to mathematical theorems. Once those broadcasts were received and returned, the team began a dialogue with that small cadre of scientists, eventually leading to face-to-face introductions.

In particular, Apohatsu’s first meeting with Mino orDresha, held months ago, resonated in his memory as if it had happened earlier in the day. Since that initial encounter—which she had taken with great aplomb and poise considering she was among the first of her people to meet with an extraterrestrial—they had forged a fast friendship. In their coded transmissions and during their rare personal meetings, they had spoken of family, of history, of art, and of ambition. The bond he had developed with Mino was unlike any he had experienced among his friends or colleagues.

Realizing he was staring at Mino’s small hands—something he had done on several occasions—Apohatsu cast his gaze downward to discover that he was absently fidgeting with the sixth finger of his left hand. Essentially an opposable thumb opposite the one he already possessed, the extra digit had been reproduced via a biomechanical prosthetic he wore on each hand, concealed beneath artificial skin colored to mimic indigenous pigmentation. While the mock-ups did not possess the full functionality of actual Payav hands, and would not pass muster if subjected to close examination, the prosthetics, working in concert with other skin coloring and a hair-hiding skullcap, allowed him to move casually through the city disguised as a local inhabitant.

While you and the others we have approached know about the Federation, he continued after a moment, and my superiors are aware of our contact with you, there are still issues to consider. We can’t simply announce our presence here. That would likely do as much damage as informing the public about the pulsar.

But there is so much you could do! Mino exclaimed, pointing at him with a gesture made all the more odd due to the extra digit on her right hand. You have the ability to evacuate an untold number of our people, ensure they are taken to a world that can support our species. Even if our planet is doomed, you can make certain that our civilization and our culture is not lost.

With renewed anguish, Apohatsu shook his head. You know that we couldn’t evacuate the entire planet in time, and as your first consul said, there would be no way to enable a program of selection for potential evacuees without causing global alarm.

Whatever he was going to say next was forgotten at the sound of the lock on Mino’s office door disengaging before the door itself swung open to admit a trio of armed guards, each wearing dark body armor and helmets with visors that concealed their faces. Apohatsu saw that all three carried ominous-looking rifles, the barrels of which were aimed at him and Mino.

Oh no. The words echoed in Apohatsu’s mind. They know! How?

What is the meaning of this? Mino shouted, rising from her chair. How dare you barge into my private office!

Another shadow fell across the threshold of the door, and Apohatsu watched as the small, hunched form of an elderly Payav male walking with a cane entered the room.

I hope you will forgive me, my dear friend, First Consul Flen etHamwora said as he stepped toward Mino’s desk. The guards are of course acting on my order. Apohatsu saw that the aged leader of Gelta was not looking at Mino as he spoke, but instead was scrutinizing him with a piercing gaze.

With all due respect, First Consul, Mino said as she stepped around her desk, would you kindly tell me what this is about?

Finally turning to face his science advisor, Flen replied, Considering the gravity of what we face, I suspected you might seek counsel from other parties. He shifted his weight, using his cane to maintain his balance as he regarded Apohatsu once more. Though I admit I never expected what the true nature of that counsel might be. What manner of being are you, sir?

Doing his best to feign an expression of surprise and confusion, Forgive me, First Consul, but I do not—

Flen held up his free hand, prompting Apohatsu to silence. Let us not waste time with false pretenses. To Mino, he said, I have had your offices—as well as those of your associates—monitored for quite some time now. There was some concern that you might attempt to inform the public about the Pulse.

You would accuse me of insurrection? Mino said, her voice rising an octave. I gave you my word that I would remain silent, and so far as our people are concerned, I have done just that.

Nodding, Flen replied, An interesting choice of words, given your present company. To Apohatsu, he said, There will be time to discuss the historic aspects of our first meeting at another time, sir. For now, I have but a single question: Is there anything you can do for the people of my world?

Swallowing the lump he felt forming in his throat, Apohatsu shook his head. First Consul, I honestly do not know.

NOW

CHAPTER 3

Jim Kirk hated meetings.

It was not that he failed to see their occasional usefulness, at least when information of importance was conveyed. Still, he always had been impatient when it came to such proceedings, discussing the merits and potential pitfalls surrounding a particular course of action rather than actually getting on with whatever tasks needed accomplishing. Despite what he recognized as a personal foible, Kirk was no fool. There obviously were times when meeting to hash out the details prior to undertaking a complicated, hazardous mission was a prudent strategy.

Acting to prevent the extinction of every living thing on a planet definitely qualified in that regard.

Kirk forced away the casual, even flippant thought, annoyed with himself even for harboring it as he looked around the oval-shaped conference table to the other people assembled in the Enterprise’s main briefing lounge. While Lieutenant Commander Spock, his science officer as well as his second-in-command, displayed his usual implacable Vulcan demeanor, the other members of his senior staff—Dr. Mark Piper, ship’s physician; Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, the Enterprise’s chief engineer; and Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, leader of the ship’s astro-sciences department—each wore expressions of concern and doubt that Kirk was certain matched his own.

A rogue pulsar, he said. Seated at one end of the conference table, the captain leaned forward until he could rest his forearms atop its polished surface as he regarded the image in the viewer at the far end of the table. He took an extra moment to study the computer-enhanced image of the pulsar as collected by the Enterprise’s sensor array. I’ve heard of them, but I never thought I’d actually get to see one.

They are a rather rare form of stellar phenomena, Captain, said Professor Lindsey Cameron from where she sat just to the left of the viewer. A human woman perhaps forty years of age, Cameron wore her blond hair cut in a style short enough to expose the tanned skin of her neck. Dressed in a contemporary one-piece jumpsuit that flattered her trim, athletic figure, the professor presented the appearance of someone far more accustomed to outdoor activity than spending long hours huddled in a windowless research laboratory. I was most surprised when I received the report about it from Starfleet Command. Offering a demure smile, she added, I never expected to actually see one myself, let alone get very close to one.

Though he had been captain of the Enterprise only for a short time, Kirk could appreciate Cameron’s excitement at facing the unknown. Indeed, it was that aspect of his ship’s forthcoming mission—a long-duration assignment that would take him and his crew into an uncharted region of the galaxy with the primary task of discovering and establishing peaceful contact with other intelligent space-faring civilizations—that filled him with a sense of anticipation unlike anything he ever had experienced.

Before he and the Enterprise could set out on that mission, however, they first would have to complete the task currently facing them.

The object was discovered almost six months ago, Cameron said as she rose from her chair and moved closer to the viewer. Using the stylus from her data slate as a pointer, she indicated the pulsar centered on the screen. Astronomers on Mestiko became aware of it thanks to telemetry received from orbital telescopes, and its presence was later confirmed by additional data transmitted by a long-range probe currently traversing the outer boundary of their solar system. Long-range sensor scans from a Starfleet science vessel removed any lingering doubt.

It’s headed for Mestiko? Kirk asked.

Cameron nodded. In a manner of speaking. Stepping away from the viewer, she clasped her hands behind her back as she began to pace the perimeter of the briefing lounge.

Though its projected course will bring it no closer than five hundred and twenty million kilometers from the planet, the pulsar still poses a tremendous threat.

Seated next to Scott, Sulu said, Captain, a pulsar emits X-ray radiation from its magnetic poles while spinning at high rates of speed. Think of it as a lighthouse, its search beams rotating dozens of times per second. In this case, those beams will intersect with Mestiko as the pulsar moves through the system.

What kind of damage are we talking about? asked Dr. Piper, leaning forward in his chair, his frown acting to deepen the already prominent lines etched into his aged face.

Turning to face Piper, Spock replied, "The event will be sufficient to wipe out all life on the planet, Doctor. While that portion of Mestiko facing away from the pulsar will be spared from direct exposure, the damage to the entire planet will be catastrophic.

The X-ray emissions will also have detrimental effects on the atmosphere, completely destroying the planet’s ozone layer and allowing lethal levels of ultraviolet radiation to reach the surface. Within forty-eight hours, the heat buildup resulting from radiation saturation will trigger innumerable severe weather events. Over time, that radiation also will inflict widespread ecological damage.

The Payav have also deployed a network of satellites and three staffed orbital facilities, Sulu added, some of which were utilized as part of their research into faster-than-light travel. Those exposed to the pulsar will have their guidance systems fused. Eventually, the heating of the atmosphere will increase drag on the satellites, slowing their velocities to the point that their orbits decay and they plunge back to the planet. The astrophysicist shook his head. There’s also a permanent research base located on one of Mestiko’s two moons. No evacuations have been ordered as of yet. Anyone at that colony or aboard one of those space stations doesn’t stand a chance.

His own expression one of dread, Scott said, Sounds to me like the lucky ones are those killed right away.

You’d be correct, Commander, Cameron replied. Those who survive the pulsar’s immediate effects will be doomed to eventual extinction, either by prolonged radiation exposure or by an atmosphere saturated with toxic pollutants.

Shaking his head, Piper whispered, Dear God.

Kirk saw the anguish in the doctor’s eyes even as the older man released a sigh of resignation. His brown hair, thinning on top, was graying at the temples. There were bags under his eyes and the skin along his jawline was sagging and wrinkled. Kirk knew the man had seen his fair share of suffering and death during his career, and he wore the strain of more than four decades in service to Starfleet for all to see. Though he recently had put in his paperwork for retirement, Piper had agreed to remain aboard the Enterprise until the ship’s return to Earth, currently scheduled for three months from now. Perhaps he believed those final weeks would be uneventful, but instead he faced the possibility of watching an entire planet die while he stood by, powerless to prevent it.

Well, Kirk mused, not if we have anything to say about that.

As though reading his mind, Cameron halted her pacing and turned to face the group of assembled officers. Of course, the reason we’re here is to make an attempt at preventing this catastrophe. At first, we discussed the possibility of building a larger version of the old Verteron Array on one of the system’s uninhabited planets, but eventually we decided that was not a practical approach.

Frowning, Kirk leaned forward in his seat. Verteron Array? Why does that sound familiar?

It was a mechanism constructed on Mars in the mid-twenty-second century, Captain, Sulu replied. Essentially, it was a massive emitter, using verteron pulses to direct comets to the planet as part of the then-ongoing terraforming efforts.

Aye, Scott said, but creating an emitter capable of moving a pulsar would be something else entirely.

Spock nodded. Indeed. The mass of such an object would be far beyond the capabilities of anything we could construct in such a short period of time.

Which brings us to our current plan, Cameron said. Returning to her place at the conference table, the professor tapped a series of controls on the portable computer terminal Spock had placed there for her use. In response to her actions, the image on the viewer shifted to that of a technical schematic, albeit one for a device Kirk was not sure he recognized.

This is a Series Alpha sensor probe, Cameron said, although it’s been substantially modified from its original configuration. As you know, this design is intended for investigation of spatial areas where it’s considered too dangerous to send a starship.

From the opposite end of the table, Scott said, Those beasties carry some heavy-duty shielding. He indicated the viewer with a wave of his hand. That looks to have had some enhancements, though.

Cameron nodded. Quite right, Mr. Scott. We’ve taken six of these probes and modified them with increased shielding, and replaced their sensor arrays with enhanced deflector emitters and power transfer relays. We’ve upgraded their auto-navigation and remote-controlled course correction components, and they each now feature a networking interface so that they can operate in concert with one another. She pressed another control on the computer terminal, calling up another image to the viewscreen depicting six of the probes arranged in a hexagonal formation, with a pale yellow field filling in the space between them.

Once deployed, the professor continued, the probes will assume a course parallel to that of the pulsar, traveling so that they are positioned between it and Mestiko. The emitters we installed will deploy a single field designed to act as a moving shield, deflecting the pulsar’s X-ray emissions away from the planet. Based on the pulsar’s current speed, the shield will only have to perform this function for the duration of time its emission cones are intersecting with Mestiko’s trajectory. She shrugged. Perhaps five minutes, ten at the outside, and it’ll all be over.

Scott offered an appreciative nod. A fine bit of engineering, Professor.

Extraordinary circumstances, Mr. Scott, Cameron replied, once more offering a small smile. As an engineer, I’m sure you know and appreciate that any attempt to help these people would be of similar scope and mindset.

Scott nodded. Aye, Professor. Indeed I do.

Assuming it works, of course, Spock countered. It is worth noting that not only is this technology experimental, but this would also be the first known attempt to deflect or divert the radioactive emissions of a stellar body.

Taking her seat at the table once again, Cameron replied, If you’re saying that we don’t know whether this will work, Mr. Spock, well of course you’re right. However, it’s not as though we’re graced with a number of options here.

Clasping his hands on the table in front of him, Kirk frowned. Untested technology usually meant all manner of unexpected complications. While he was not in the habit of shirking from a course of action simply because it had never been attempted, he also preferred to examine a problem from all possible angles in the hopes of reducing head-on collisions with the unforeseen. It’s a valid observation, Professor. Suppose this deflector screen doesn’t work; what are the alternatives? What about evacuation?

All but impossible, Spock replied matter-of-factly. Mestiko’s space travel capability is equivalent to that of mid-twenty-first-century Earth. The Payav have completed automated exploratory missions to four of their system’s other six planets as well as several of those worlds’ respective moons. They’re incapable of evacuating themselves, and there is insufficient time for any Federation effort to succeed in rescuing more than a fraction of the planet’s population. Indeed, it would not have been possible to complete an evacuation even if we had begun the process six months ago.

Cameron said, A large portion of our task is covert in nature. If knowledge of the pulsar reaches the populace—which we have to assume it will at some point if it hasn’t already—we have to make sure our diversion of its X-ray emissions cannot conclusively be connected to extraterrestrial action.

Looking to Spock, Kirk asked, What about our team on the surface? Where are they now? He had seen the reports about Dr. Nathan Apohatsu and his people being discovered by Payav government leaders.

According to Apohatsu’s reports, which Starfleet continues to receive, the first officer replied, they remain with the leaders of the Gelta nation-state, who have taken measures to ensure their secrecy as well as that of the pulsar and the existence of beings from other worlds. Such knowledge would likely result in widespread panic among the populace.

When Spock paused, Kirk noticed the slight, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. Though the captain was still learning how to read his normally unflappable first officer—a task made all the more difficult by Spock’s strict observance of his father’s people’s cultural mandate to keep their emotions suppressed beneath a veneer of logic—he recognized uncertainty when he saw it.

Something else on your mind, Mr. Spock? Kirk asked.

Folding his arms across his chest, the science officer turned to regard Kirk. I was merely considering the implications of our mission here with respect to the Prime Directive, sir.

Seems to me, Piper said, that went out the window the minute our people on Mestiko contacted the Payav scientists.

Kirk had read the transcripts of the messages received from the team of Federation pre–first contact specialists, embedded on Mestiko for nearly a year at that point, in the days and weeks following the discovery of the pulsar. He was struck by how the world’s leaders had elected to conceal that information. Realizing that nothing could prevent the catastrophe, they evidently had decided that a swift end to their civilization was preferable to the months of chaos and anarchy that certainly would result when the reality of looming disaster became public knowledge.

That might well have been the way of it, save for the actions of the cultural observation team.

Starfleet Command had received an urgent message from them, requesting assistance for the Payav in dealing with the pending crisis. The team, already in close contact with a cadre of trusted scientists and other high-ranking officials from the planet’s largest provincial state as well as a handful of that nation’s allies, had revealed much knowledge regarding the Federation and its dozens of member worlds, each of them possessing technology far beyond that of the Payav, and had held out the possibility that aid in dealing with the coming calamity might be available.

The Payav achieved warp drive, Mr. Spock, Kirk added. According to the observation team’s reports, they were recommending an accelerated timetable for formal first contact protocols even before the discovery of the pulsar.

Spock nodded. That is true, of course, but the fact remains that according to regulations, the observation team undertook considerable risk by divulging to Payav leaders that we might be able to render assistance.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Scott said, his brow furrowing in irritation as he leaned across the table. Are you actually suggesting we leave these people to their fate and go about our merry way?

Though the engineer’s tone and expression conveyed his rising ire, Spock’s features in contrast remained composed. I was simply attempting to convey the complete context of the situation we face, Mr. Scott.

Because formal first contact protocols had not been enacted with the planet, lawyers had argued that revealing the Federation’s presence to the population at large and attempting to render aid would also be in violation of the Prime Directive. While the policy was intended to protect societies that had not yet ascended to a level of technology allowing them to travel to other worlds and interact with other space-faring races, more cynical minds tended to view the decree as a means of allowing the Federation to soothe its conscience while remaining blissfully unengaged in the affairs of those who might genuinely benefit from so-called interference.

For weeks after the receipt of the observation team’s message, the semantics of the situation with the Payav—the letter of the law versus the spirit it was meant to foster—had consumed legal experts. A number of other factors had also been considered, not the least of which was the Mestiko system’s proximity to territory claimed by the Klingon Empire. Given that reality, having an ally in this part of space would be of no small value.

Assuming the Payav survived the coming days, of course.

Ultimately, it was determined that the Federation could not in good conscience stand by and do nothing while Mestiko faced certain annihilation, a decision for which Kirk was thankful. While he understood and respected the purpose of the Prime Directive as a means of preventing the contamination of a fledgling civilization, debating the policy’s merits in a classroom setting and applying its principles in situations when real lives hung in the balance were two entirely different matters.

The Prime Directive still applies to the balance of the planet’s population, Kirk said, and Dr. Apohatsu and his team are upholding it by ensuring their presence remains a secret except to the parties they approached as part of the normal pre–first contact protocols. It’s too late for second-guessing those decisions, and now we’ve got a job to do. To Cameron, he added, I’ve no illusions that this is a simple task, Professor. What do we do next?

Apparently satisfied at the direction the discussion had taken, Cameron said, The effectiveness of the deflector field will be dependent on getting accurate sensor readings of the pulsar. The only information we’ve gotten to this point was taken from long-range scans. I’ll require more detailed readings—the intensity of its X-ray emissions, rate of rotation, and so on. The probes will need that information as a baseline in order to more effectively make automated course-corrections while in flight. I’ll also be able to better estimate how long the shield will need to be active.

Kirk frowned. "That means we need to get close enough for Enterprise sensors to make an intensive sweep. He turned to Spock. Can we do that safely?"

We will have to take precautions, sir, the Vulcan replied. Our own deflector shields will provide some measure of protection, and we should remain free of danger so long as the ship avoids the pulsar’s X-ray emissions.

That’s why I have a top-flight helmsman, Kirk said, offering a smile. Then he asked Cameron, How much time do we have?

Pausing to look at her data slate and review her notes, the professor replied, The pulsar entered the Mestiko system about five days ago. Its trajectory will take it past the planet in twelve days, sixteen hours.

If we proceed at our maximum safe cruising speed, Spock added, we can be in a position to conduct the requisite scans in approximately sixty-five hours.

Kirk nodded in approval. There would be plenty of time to study the pulsar and allow Cameron to complete her work in preparation for deploying the deflector drones. Flash the bridge, Spock. Order Mr. Mitchell to lay in an intercept course and engage at warp six. He already could anticipate the reaction his navigator and close friend would have when he learned of the potential danger they faced in bringing the ship so close to the pulsar and its hazardous effects. Gary Mitchell thrived on the thrill of the unexpected, and this mission promised to deliver that in no small portion.

After dismissing his officers and making his way from the briefing room into the corridor, Kirk could not help feeling the same way. With no more questions or items to consider—for the moment, at least—and with orders issued, it was time for action. If good fortune chose to smile upon him and his crew, that action would result in the salvation of an entire world.

A damn sight better than sitting in a meeting.

CHAPTER 4

Her mind still clouded from a half-day session on changes to regulations governing the construction of public housing, Raya elMora groaned aloud as she pushed past the doorway of her small office. Her first act upon entering her private workspace was to relinquish the weight of assorted binders and folders she carried onto her already overburdened desktop. Letting her lithe arms drop to her sides, she sighed and turned back to her door to swing it closed, only to hear a loud, ruffling clatter behind her, a sound that could be only that of once neatly stacked and sorted papers cascading from the desk to a significantly less orderly state on the floor.

Raya brought one hand to her bare forehead and let her thumbs lightly massage her temples as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the pressure might scrub away her memories of the last few moments or, better yet, the entire morning.

Despite all of the advances made in communications and electronic data storage, why does the Convocation still insist on committing the bulk of its information to print?

She entertained the thought of proposing the elimination of hard-copy records for the entire national government of Larenda, until it occurred to her that she would likely be put in charge of an entire subcommittee to research the idea.

And print the whole cursed proposal onto more stacks of paper, Raya finished her thought aloud.

Servant?

Raya’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice, and she looked up to see her aide, Blee elTorno, standing in the now-open doorway, the sounds and sights of a bustling hive of interconnected office spaces spilling around her small form. Blee’s soft features carried a look of puzzlement and some concern as she peered inside.

Is something wrong? the young woman asked. I thought I heard a crash.

Raya allowed her aide a small smile, knowing she should have expected the typically overfunctioning Blee to follow her into her office despite anything the aide might have overheard. Just making more work for myself, she said as she turned to her desk to survey the damage. Apparently, someone thinks I do not have enough to do already.

Blee stepped into the office and bent to the task of collecting the spilled folders and scattered papers. "Perhaps they simply observed the lone area of your office not otherwise occupied with documents, and wished to alleviate